


The Silver Archer

by REINDOWN



Category: Gintama, Robin Hood - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Complete, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24200242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/REINDOWN/pseuds/REINDOWN
Summary: The Silver Archer has been a thorn in the Sheriff's side for too long and the Shinsengumi are released into the forest to dispatch him. Unfortunately, things do not go as planned and Hijikata goes missing. He finds himself in the middle of his enemy's camp, living with them, learning from them. He begins to see the man behind the name and the many expressions he shows. If he does not kill Gintoki, then he will be a traitor to his men. If he does ...?
Relationships: Hijikata Toshirou/Sakata Gintoki
Comments: 18
Kudos: 97





	1. How does not matter, bring me his head on a platter

**Author's Note:**

> I grew up in and around Sherwood Forest where the tale of Robin Hood is set and actually, though I never believed in Santa Claus, I always believed in Robin Hood. When I found out the legend was not exactly true, I was at least 13 years old and I was genuinely horrified. The folklore tale has always meant so much to me, so I can’t believe I haven’t thought of this concept before – Gintoki suits the character of Robin Hood so much! Anyway, enjoy!

_Where roots run deep a_ _nd bark, like paper, peels,_

_The girl counts sheep while t_ _he silver archer steals._

_Where trees climb high a_ _nd pines disguise the earth,_

_The Merry-Men get by in_ _the forest filled with mirth._

_Where the forest grows dense, t_ _here’s only one man_

_Who dares to stand against t_ _he Sheriff of Nottingham._

“I have had it up to here with this bandit!” The Sheriff cursed, flinging his empty chalice at the assembled knights in his court room. “My Lords are afraid to visit me, my taxes are beginning to run dry and the Kingdom thinks the man is a hero!” He scoffed, spittle flying from his mouth in his rage. “A _hero_? The man is a coward and a thief, and I want him dead.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Kondo Isao bowed as low as he could, his armour clattering in indignation at the movement. “We’ll find him and bring him to you.”

“You don’t understand,” the Sheriff curled his lip, taking the steps down to Kondo one at a time, the gold jewels around his neck clinking together with each thud of his boot. “I want him dead. I want his head delivered to me. There is no mercy for this man now.”

“My Lord,” Kondo kept his head low. He could feel Hijikata Toshiro, his second in command, as always by his side and puffing out his chest with each inch closer the Sheriff crept. “If you kill this man now, the peasants may revolt.”

“Any Englishman that cheers for that crook should be hanged. And make that an order. Anyone who stands in your way or defends the thief known as Robin Hood should be slain. Am I understood, Kondo?”

“… Yes, my Lord.” He replied, the low growl of his second-in-command hastening the need to end this summoning soon. It wasn’t just the Sheriff’s patience that was running out.

“Your men have allowed this man to run free for too long.” The Sheriff called as he left, the vast room echoing his voice against the stone walls. “Your neck is on the chopping block, Kondo.”

Luckily, he disappeared through the wooden doors without a single glance back over his shoulder. If he had, he may have seen the glint of murder in the eyes of his so-called loyal knights. No-one threatened their commander. Not even the Sheriff himself.

“His Lordship has been stressed by this bandit for some months now, we best lessen the load from his shoulders.”

“His _lordship_ brings his problems onto himself.” Hijikata scoffed, kicking the chalice with his leather boot. Unlike Kondo dressed in full armour adorned with family insignia, the rest of them were wearing simple cloth. “When the commoners are suffering, he ups their taxes. This lone archer would not be so much of a problem if his politics weren’t so warped.”

“Tosshi, let’s not. Even the ears have walls here.”

“You mean the walls have ears?”

“Eh?” Kondo glanced around, startled. “The walls have what?”

Hijikata dropped his head into his hands.

“All we have to do is kill this man, right?” Sougo announced, running his thumb along the blade of his sword. “Then send me out, Kondo. Let me have some fun.”

“I’m sending you all out. Tosshi, take twelve men with you, too. It’s all hands on deck for this mission.”

“Finally,” he grinned, “I’d had enough of seeing the inside of this castle.”

“My caveat to the Lord’s commands is do not go around killing innocent civilians. There’d be a revolt before we know it.”

Sougo clicked his teeth in disappointment. “Shame, that was the best bit.”

“Then, go, you sorry lot.” Kondo commanded. “Bring me back Robin Hood, the Silver Archer.”

…

Three weeks had passed since that order and Kondo’s men had been chasing their own tails in the forest. It was as though the trees knew they were here and were hiding the bandits in their midst, whispering through the leaves their every move and felling trunks in their path. The men were growing frustrated. The rebel movement was growing stronger, especially since the Sheriff’s knights had turned their focus to finding Robin Hood. There were far fewer patrols across the local areas, no more community tax raids and only a handful of wanted criminals had been captured. The most frustrated of the knights was Toshiro Hijikata, who wasn’t known for his calm and conservative demeanour. In fact, the men called him the Demon Commander, for the autocracy of his rule and merciless attitude towards cowardice or failure. Despite that, there was nobody that didn’t want to serve under him. He earned great respect from his subordinates and had much to show for his achievements. Yet at the same time, he remained unpretentious.

That didn’t mean he was perfect, however.

“Yamazaki!” Hijikata dismounted from his horse and strode over to the startled man, grasping him by the collar. “You said they were in this direction!”

“S-s-sorry, vice-commander, my informant was unreliable, but it was all we had to go on.” Yamazaki stammered.

“What informant?”

“T-t-the villager said they’d heard voices laughing in these parts of the woods!”

“Well I don’t hear any laughing!”

“I apologise! I’ll do better next time!”

Hijikata scowled at him, then cast him aside with one violent flick of his wrist. He grabbed his horse by the reigns and led it off-track to a small opening in the forest. His men followed, nervously. He wrapped the reigns around a sturdy birch tree and dropped his satchel to the ground.

“I’m going to wash my face in the stream. Set up camp. We’re sleeping here tonight.”

“Yes, sir.”

Without another word, Hijikata disappeared alone into the trees, stomping his feet in irritation.

The forest swelled with the breath of a gentle breeze that rippled through, scattering emerald leaves in a dizzying flutter. The sun was beginning to set, which meant darkness was creeping in fast. With such a dense dispersal of trees, the forest floor was always a shade dimmer than the open hillsides surrounding it. Before long, Hijikata would only be able to find his way by torchlight. There were more bandits than just Robin Hood in this forest. He had to be careful.

Despite this, he knew the woods around here as good as anyone. Every stump and stream and rock was like a scar on the back of his palm, familiar. He’d grown up a commoner, too, and his brother often took him to hunt through these woods. Those memories seemed so distant now. But because of them, he was able to quickly trace the scratch of a stream cutting through land, its water crystal clear and flowing. He hadn’t been sure exactly where the stream was, but his instincts guided him in no time at all. Even though the forest changed almost every second of every day, it followed the same rules. Keep heading down, and there will be water.

The stream was about as wide as his hand. He dislodged a rock from beside the stream, giving it a brief rinse before using it to form a dam. In the quickly forming pool of water he plunged his face, shuddering at the cold. Leaning forward, he dropped his hair into the icy water and ran his hands through. Massaging his fingers into his scalp eased out the tension from the day. With a flick of his head, he returned to an upright position and shook out the droplets from his hair. It was nice to wash at the end of a long day. He considered a full wash. The stream was hardly wide enough, but the cold water helped to force the tension out of his bones. After the day he’d had, a nice, long wash was called for. He stripped his shirt off and tossed it aside. All of a sudden, a whistle sang through the air – a very human, mocking whistle. He spun round, already reaching for his sword.

“Phew, it’s getting hot in this forest,” the voice said, laughing heartily. Hijikata scowled, gripping the hilt of his sword tighter. He couldn’t see anyone. “Look up, Princess.”

Perched in the branches of a treetop was a man in a baggy green tunic, his waist adorned with a thick belt, each kink in the leather hiding the hilt of a weapon or tool. In his hand was a longbow, across his back a quiver of a hundred of arrows. His posture wasn’t threatening – in fact, he was slouching against the tree with his hands behind his head and feet crossed under the branch to keep him steady.

“I was enjoying the view, but this might be too much.”

“Who are you?”

“That was going to be my question, Princess. You’ve been looking for me for weeks, and now you find me, you don’t recognise me?” The words took a second to sink in, but Hijikata realised with a gasp – there was that unmistakable silver hair.

“You!” Hijikata stepped forward aggressively, but he knew he was in a vulnerable position. Every entertainer in the land sang of the remarkable accuracy of Robin Hood’s arrows. Hijikata had no doubt if he wanted to, the man could make one of those arrow tips find its mark in his heart. He considered calling out for his men. Would he be able to defend himself before they arrived?

“I see what you’re thinking, Princess,” the man drawled lazily, picking his nose. “And I’m telling ya, don’t do it. Even if I didn’t fire a single arrow, you’d die by the sword of one of my men who, by the way, have you surrounded.” Hijikata span on his heel in shock, peering into the encroaching darkness of his surroundings. A young girl appeared from behind a tree, grinning. Little Kagura, as she was known, was also legendary. And despite her name and equivalent size, her strength was superhuman. She didn’t wield a weapon. Her hands were enough. “Now you get it. So, your next move will be to come quietly.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The man sighed loudly and with exaggerated eye movement. “Somehow, I had a feeling you’d say that. Kagura.”

Before Hijikata had a chance to react, he was unconscious.

He awoke with a pain in his temple, shooting his eyes open with a wince. He immediately regretted this action for two reasons. Firstly, the pain. Secondly, it was incredibly dumb to jump into something like this without first gathering information. Instead, he jolted upright and groaned at the splitting headache. He immediately realised that he was tied to the bottom of a thick tree with several well-worn ropes. The way he’d suddenly jerked awake, he’d managed to crack his head on the hard wood. No doubt that would bruise. The next thing he noticed is that now there was a pair of deep burgundy eyes regarding him coolly.

“Welcome,” the man said, “Did you sleep well, Princess?”

“Robin Hood,” Hijikata spat at the man sat cross-legged opposite him. There was the small crackle of a fire between them, the stranger blowing gently on the embers and encouraging the flame to blossom.

“That’s just a nickname. My name is Sakata Gintoki.”

“It’s unfortunate that we’re well past the need to gather information. Our orders now are simply to kill you.”

“Is that so?” Gintoki hummed, rolling some dried leaves between his palms. “Yet you’re the one all tied up.”

Unfortunately, Hijikata knew there was only one outcome for him now. The criminal couldn’t have invited him into their hideout and given him his full name with the expectation that he’d go free. No, he would certainly be killed. Hijikata had to find a way to get himself released from these ropes.

“Why have you taken me here?”

“We’re not killers,” he shielded the fire with one hand as a strong wind began to dance through the forest. “Your men have been searching for us for months now. We simply want to talk.”

“I know you can’t let me go. That means you have to kill me. If I know this, it also means you have no bargaining power.”

“I wouldn’t say _no_ bargaining power.” His sly grin sent a shiver down Hijikata’s spine. “Tell me your name, stranger.”

“Hijikata Toshiro, the vice-commander of the Sheriff’s men.”

“Ahh, that little band of dogs. Ever loyal to their master. Don’t you get tired of wagging your tail to that horrendous tyrant?”

“You’re not persuading me to do anything.”

“You’re sharp, I’ll give you that. But maybe … not as sharp as you think.”

He left this comment hanging in the evening air, the hoot of owls already owning the soundscape of the forest. The fire crackled, then with a _whoosh_ began to dance on the floor. Gintoki fed it with dried logs, stacking them expertly so that they caught fire also. The warmth of the fire was welcomed by Hijikata, who was starting to feel the chill of the evening setting in. That breeze wasn’t helping either. Now that the fire was flourishing, Gintoki laid down on one side, yawning.

“I haven’t decided what I’m going to do with you yet,” he said, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. His hair was so thick that the hand was temporarily lost in there, silver bangs swallowing up the digits. “We just happened to come across you alone. And I couldn’t pass up on a chance like that.”

“The Sheriff won’t pay a ransom for me.”

“A pretty face like yours? What a waste.”

“Stop patronising me.” Hijikata spat. He was surprised at how calm he felt. In usual circumstances, being held captive by the enemy would be a stressful situation. Something about this man’s demeanour made it easy to let down his guard - too easy. He was beginning to understand the rumours about him, the reason why so many flocked to his side. Charismatic, with these piercing eyes that just shot right through you. In the light of the fire, they seemed to glow a demonic red. His posture exuded a calm confidence. The man didn’t even have a knife on him as far as Hijikata could tell. His bow and arrow were just off to the side, the belt that had been around his waist no longer there. There was not a single person near them, though he could hear the buzz of voices and laughter just out of sight. That meant there was no one to guard him but Gintoki. This could be his chance. If he could just get free from these ropes …

He wriggled his body a little, pretending to shift to get comfy, when really, he was testing the tightness of the ropes. There was extremely little leeway. The ropes sat around his stomach and dug into his skin. It was an effort to take a deep breath, the tension across cutting deep and making him feel queasy.

“I sent some men to your camp,” Gintoki interrupted Hijikata’s thoughts.

“You-!” He strained against the bonds, clenching his teeth. “What have you done?”

“Calm down! Phew, that was an overreaction. They’re just watching. Your men haven’t even begun looking for you, by the way.”

“That damn Yamazaki,” he cursed.

“Apparently you go off on your own a lot. That’s what they were saying.”

“Just how close did you guys manage to get?” There were definitely conversations to be had with his men if he survived this. Though, to be fair to them, if Hijikata were ‘lost’, the worst thing they could do is start moving around. They could have at least sent out some searchers. “What exactly do you plan on doing when they move?”

“Probably send them off with a message. ‘If you want your vice-commander back, stop sending search parties out’.”

“I told you, the Sheriff doesn’t care about me.”

“And yet you still serve him.”

“I don’t serve him, I serve Kondo.”

“And if your commander were to be serving the wrong man, a man who would have him killed, would you support him?”

“Things aren’t as simple as you think. You’re an outsider, you don’t understand. The Sheriff will keep sending people out looking for you until he receives your head on a spike.”

“And I’ll keep taking away his men. How hard do you think it is to pick you guys off, one by one?”

“He’ll keep sending men out until there’s no one left to send.”

“And how would you feel about that, Mr Vice Commander? To watch your men die. All of them. From the greenest member, right up to your precious commander.”

“Kondo wouldn’t let that happen.”

“So, he’ll disobey the Sheriff? Then what?” Gintoki seemed genuinely interested in this conversation, trying to decipher just what was going on in Hijikata’s head. His eyes were bright and inquisitive. The only light in the forest now was the glow of the fire between them, the moon hidden by the thick canopy above.

“Why are you so interested in our affairs?”

“I told you. I’m trying to figure out what to do with you.”

“Why don’t you just kill me? Cutting off the head of the men trying to find you. The problem won’t go away, but it will give you time.”

Gintoki looked slightly surprised. “You talk so easily about dying. Aren’t you afraid?” The resolute glare he received in response seemed to answer his question. The man sighed, the sound an echo of the exhaustion in his expression. “I’ve already said this. It’s almost like only one of us is listening in this conversation. We’re not killers. If we were to murder everyone that stood against us or disagreed with us, we’d be just like the Sheriff. That’s not the kind of world I want to live in.”

Quite a profound – and at the same time, confusing – answer from a man that was quickly turning out to be nothing like the Sheriff had described. As he was running the words through his mind, a new voice appeared.

“It’s my turn to watch the prisoner,” the woman said, taking a long drag on her pipe. She tilted her head at Hijikata, looking far less friendly than Gintoki had been as smoke curled from her lips. There was a vicious scar running down her left eye. “Go get something to eat, Gintoki.”

“Already over?” The man stretched, gradually getting to his feet like moving was an effort. “I was beginning to feel sleepy.”

“Eat quick, while it’s still warm.”

“I will. Thanks for the conversation, Toshiro.” The name fell so easily from his mouth that Hijikata jolted. Very few people called him by his first name. “Be nice, Tsukuyo. He’s a guest, not a prisoner.”

“Sure looks like a prisoner to me,” she shrugged. “Unless you’ve got some kinky interests.”

“Only on a Tuesday night.”


	2. You are not what I had thought, your allegiance can't be bought

Two weeks had passed since he’d become a prisoner of the Merry Men, as they liked to call themselves. The thought wasn’t too abstract, they really did laugh a lot, despite the fact that they appeared to spend every day avoiding capture. The group would swell in size sometimes as comrades joined the band for a short amount of time, before waving goodbye to go who knows where. Other times, the group seemed intimately small. There was always a tight band of people around Gintoki. He was the lure that pulled in the fish. Hijikata was reminded of Kondo – a man with charisma that drew others to him. Gintoki’s power appeared to be even stronger. Even Hijikata was being pulled along with his current. He couldn’t put a finger on why.

Curiosity? He wanted to know what he was thinking, where he was going to go next. In their brief conversations, they sometimes delved so deep into philosophy and morality that Hijikata began to question himself. He didn’t feel like Gintoki was trying to persuade him any which way. It was more like the man was probing him out of an interest equivalent to his own. He was just exploring the world through conversation.

Then, fear? One of the reasons the Sheriff had such a following was the fear he instilled into others. The most powerful always stand on top, and no one would question Gintoki’s strength in combat. Up until now, Hijikata had only witnessed him get involved in minor scuffles with bandits a couple of times. His arrows flew straight and hit with unrelenting speed, striking the target with unparalleled accuracy. His legend was like wildfire, travelling fast and far. There was no one in this forest that had not heard his name. Once, when Hijikata was taken down to the river to wash, Gintoki had been there too, already shirtless and knee deep in the strong current. His skin was like snow. It had the same soft glow to it. The lines of his collarbone cut deep across his chest, then rolled over built shoulder muscles. His frame was as broad and strong as a tree trunk. Hijikata easily traced the line of his spine, a small valley in between prominent back muscles that led down to the dimples above his trousers. He was strong.

But it wasn’t fear that drew these people to him. And they weren’t there for some sort of guaranteed safety, like birds perched upon the horns of a bull. What could it be?

As Hijikata had expected, the Sheriff had not ceased the search. Gintoki had decided not to capture any more men for now – it wasn’t a great strategy to hold so many people in captivity when they were barely able to feed themselves. They never seemed to worry about anything, though, even when some days a few of them had to go without eating. Hijikata noticed that regardless of how he heard others complain about their empty stomachs, his plate was never empty. Some days it dwindled, but regardless, he was always fed.

One night, Hijikata shuffled onto his side, his bound wrists making it difficult to get comfortable. His sleeping arrangements had evolved into a rug on the floor with a scratchy blanket. They had stopped guarding him, but he knew that scouts keeping watch would shoot an arrow straight through him if he was caught trying to escape. The large fire the group had been cooking on still had a buzz of life around it as the sun slowly set. Instinctively, Hijikata knew Gintoki was there. The voices seemed to bounce around the forest, conversation flowing easily. The feeling of companionship … he sighed, the vision of his men fading from his grasp. He tried to hold on … they edged further from his consciousness, like water running through fingertips. There would come a day when it would be impossible to return. For one, the Sheriff would suspect him. And second, his position would have been taken by someone else. He couldn’t just go back and expect things to carry on where he left them.

“Cold?” A voice said, snapping him awake. It was Gintoki, holding a wooden bowl in one hand, his head cocked to the side with the shine of the moon catching his silver hair. “You shivered.”

“No,” he sat up. It was an effort with his hands tied. “Not cold.”

“Here,” Gintoki handed him the dish, filled with berries and slices of fruit. “Dessert.”

“Has everyone else eaten?”

Gintoki raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly. “They have.” Hijikata appeared suspicious but took the bowl without argument. “You look down.”

“Mm not,” he said, mouth full already.

“Okay, okay,” Gintoki raised his hands and plopped himself beside Hijikata. “Didn’t expect it to be that easy.”

“… What?”

“You.”

Hijikata refused to be caught up in his flow this time and decided to ignore him, munching happily on the fresh fruit. It was a nice change to charred meat and dry grains. Gintoki seemed to be contemplating something carefully, his expression controlled as he watched Hijikata inhale the contents of the dish. Once he had finished and began sucking on his fingers, he finally spoke.

“Can I ask you something?”

Hijikata was immediately suspicious and his body language shut Gintoki off from prying. “What?”

“Well, I suppose I phrased that wrong. I have something to tell you, but I want you to listen without panicking.”

“I’m already panicking. What is it?”

“Your commander … is on trial.” The dish clattered from Hijikata’s hand. “An execution order came out for you. The Sheriff wants you killed on sight. You’ve been labelled a traitor.”

“But why does that …?” Hijikata’s mind raced through possibilities. He’d expected something like this to happen. The Sheriff had never liked him anyway. A few times before, he’d put his head on the chopping block with his actions. He was far too overt about his hatred for the man. What he hadn’t anticipated is that Kondo would be put on trial. He tried to think, _why_? The answer came to him all too clearly.

“I think you’ve realised,” Gintoki continued, his voice soft. “Your commander refused to obey the order. He’s on trial for treachery. Of course, the sentence is …”

“Hanging.”

“… What I’m going to tell you now … I haven’t even told my men.”

Hijikata was too preoccupied with the vision of Kondo on the platform in the castle square, his neck … in a noose. He was barely listening.

“Hey, listen to me.” Gintoki rested his hand on Hijikata’s shoulder, startling him out of his trance. “We’re going to save your commander.”

“W-…what?”

“This is something we can use.” Gintoki continued, his red eyes burning brightly with exhilaration. “The Sheriff’s men team up with Robin Hood to defeat the Sheriff. We can finally push that obnoxious old crook out of his seat. You want to save him, don’t you?”

“Of course, I-,”

“Will your men think the same?”

Hijikata did not even need to think about that. “Yes.”

“Then …” Gintoki placed his hands around Hijikata’s wrists, his fingers clasping the knot in the rope binding them. “Can I trust you?” His hands were hot and Hijikata flushed because he was trembling. Partly through anger, partly through fear. Kondo could not die. He had to get there in time. Gintoki gripped harder, squeezing Hijikata’s hands. His face moved closer. “Can I trust you?” He began to pull on the knot. Hijikata bit his lip, lost, confused, despairing. His gaze fell to his lap. Trust his enemy? This man was his enemy. “Hey,” the man said, pushing his forehead against Hijikata’s so that he could look nowhere else but into Gintoki’s eyes which glowed like molten glass. He felt the heat of Gintoki’s breath on his skin, sending ripples of goosebumps down his arms. “Can I…?” The knot slid undone, sudden relief flushing Hijikata’s wrists as the tension disappeared. The rope fell away. Neither of them moved. The question was still on Gintoki’s lips, open and waiting. Hijikata reached up and grabbed Gintoki’s hair in his fists, pulling him aggressively onto his lips. Gintoki made a muffled ‘mph!’ of surprise. Then, his hands grasped at Hijikata’s shirt, nearly tearing the material.

They fought for control for several minutes, biting, scratching, pulling, pushing until every inch of Hijikata’s lips was throbbing gently. Gintoki broke their kiss first, gasping lightly, dropping one hand to the floor to steady himself.

“I take that as a yes?”

…

Hijikata hadn’t been informed of the entire plan. Initially, he thought he could not be trusted. He supposed that even after all the moments he had shared with the Silver Archer, every quiet night under the silver of the moonlight curled into the warmth of another body … he still wasn’t trusted. Despite every moment he laid there, guilt hanging over him, the sense of betrayal eating away at his mind – and then Gintoki nuzzling his neck as though to remind him, to reassure him. Still, he wasn’t trusted. His hands were no longer tied, and he could wander as far from camp as he pleased – no one considered him a prisoner anymore. Once Gintoki had said the word, they all conceded without complaint. When Gintoki had deliberately evaded his questioning about how they were actually going to save Kondo, something cold had tightened his chest.

But his worries were scattered to the winds when he overheard Kagura and a young male discussing the operation in hushed tones. They complained without reservation about Gintoki, calling him every name under the sun. What they said staggered Hijikata – they didn’t know the plan either. No one did. They had all been told the same information.

“That silver perm is definitely plotting something,” Kagura complained, chewing on something sticky and unidentifiable. She ground her teeth. “That probably means he’s going to do something stupid.”

“It has always been that way, Kagura,” the young boy sighed, ramming as many items as he could into his satchel. “And it has always been our job to stop him from doing something stupid.”

“Or save him afterwards,” Kagura spat, her frown low. “Oi, Mr Knight!” Hijikata jolted when he realised that she was talking to him. He was hesitant to deliver his usual scowl – she was a kid after all. Even though he’d definitely seen her fell a tree the other day with just her fist.

“What do you want?”

“If this is a trap for Gin-chan, I’ll tear you a new hole in your cheeks.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, unable to conceal the pessimism in his eyes – how he wished this wasn’t happening. “This nightmare is real.”

“It would help us if you can provide as much information as possible about the layout of the castle and the guard patterns. Every minor detail will help.” The boy said, casting Hijikata a polite smile. “I’m Shinpachi, by the way. I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. I hope you don’t mind but I’ll be calling you Tosshi, since that’s what Gin-san does.”

He did mind, actually. That nickname was reserved for a certain few. He did notice that the whole crew had been using that name though. As soon as Gintoki had begun to use it, they all did.

Speaking of whom, Hijikata spotted a flash of silver hair appear nearby. He was drilling a man’s head with one knuckle, shouting something he couldn’t quite make out. The man he was with had long dark hair, extremely slick and healthy that fell about his shoulders. He had seen that person around and knew he was the Rampaging Noble, Katsura Kotarou. The thought that he was so close to two men he’d been chasing as enemies made him laugh – he’d been fighting against these two for what felt like his entire life. There were three main enemies to the Sheriff, and two of them were here, completely relaxed and open to attack.

How things had changed.

Katsura said something to Gintoki, who responded by whacking him over the head. Their conversation floated on a breeze and he caught a few words, “Zura, is your head completely empty?”

“It’s not Zura, it’s Katsura.”

Hijikata was reminded of his men. The way Gintoki interacted with his comrades was too familiar and it hurt. He could see Kondo there instead, ruffling hair and patting backs. His commander was always smiling broadly, apart from the few times he’d impart his wisdom on the troubled. More than once, Hijikata had been saved by Kondo’s words. The idea that such a man could be taken from this world … was unthinkable. He was doing the right thing. No matter what he had to do, who he had to cooperate with, he would do it. Out of everyone in this world, Kondo had to survive.

“Tosshi!” Gintoki called and he realised just how strange the name felt from someone else’s mouth. “Hope you’ve got a spare pair of underwear packed!”

“Die, you idiot.”

He walked over, Katsura beside him. Katsura was watching him with calm eyes, offering no hint as to his thoughts. He returned the stare, unwilling to back down.

“Are you ready to go?” Gintoki asked. Hijikata flourished his hands to demonstrate his lack of possessions. It wasn’t like he’d been carrying much when he got kidnapped.

“All I’m missing is a plan.”

“I’ve told you the plan,” Gintoki waved a hand dismissively. Kagura glanced at Shinpachi, sucking in her lower lip in a grimace. “We bust in there and save your commander. If we set off early evening, we should arrive near the castle by morning. We take a short rest, then break in just before the execution.”

“Your faces are notorious, how are you expecting to break in?”

“It’s a public execution. Zura is the master of disguises. He and a few of the less-known guys will head in with the crowds. The problem will be the guards, but you’ve told us where they’ll be.”

“And?”

“And we bust them up.” Gintoki shrugged. “Obviously just rough em’ up a little. I wouldn’t kill your men – I’ve told you, we’re not murderers.”

But that was one of his biggest worries. Hijikata knew his men well; he’d trained them himself. They were formidable opponents and it would be much harder to stage an operation and only ‘incapacitate’ them. Killing them would be the safest option – a flash of an arrow into their chest before anyone noticed they were down. Yet Gintoki had never even considered that. Deep down, Hijikata knew they could not win if they did not kill.

He hadn’t resolved himself to turn against his men.

A hand rested on his head and ruffled his bangs. “Don’t worry so much about it,” Gintoki smirked. “We’ve been running rings around you guys for years. Just trust us.”

“In a head to head battle you have no idea how it will turn out.”

“I do,” Gintoki’s voice was soft and steady, filled with unfounded confidence. “Don’t you think your men will be wanting to free Kondo, too?” He hadn’t thought of that. For some reason, the idea that he wouldn’t be the only one staging a coup hadn’t crossed his mind. He’d been so focussed on Kondo and how he could help. Sougo would never let this happen. Though they’d lost their commander and vice-commander, Sougo would rally them together. They had never needed a set of orders to know what to do – they always acted according to their instincts.

“If you’ve got nothing left to pack,” Gintoki interrupted his thoughts, “then get some rest. You won’t sleep well tonight.”

He probably wouldn’t sleep well now either.


	3. Tell me a story, one of heartbreak and glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! As I was writing, this got really long so it's actually the second-to-last chapter ... one more to go!

The summer’s air felt heavy with the threat of booming, torrential rain. Hijikata was sweating, even though he’d hardly moved in the last twenty minutes. There was so much pressure in the atmosphere that his palms were clammy. He felt grateful for the cool of the stone wall he was leaning on, out of sight of any guards. He knew the castle grounds better than anyone, having patrolled them on foot more times than he could count. He swore his footprints were etched into the stone walkways. There were no secret entrances to the castle. He wouldn’t have been doing his job properly if he hadn’t cleared any possible security risks. No, there was no such thing as an easy way in. That’s why their plan relied on those who were able to sneak in making a ruckus inside, and then, before the guards had a mind to close the gate, he’d use the confusion to sneak in.

Of course, he was one of the key faces not able to sneak into the castle. He would immediately be stopped and today of all days, the vice-commander – gone for an inordinate amount of time – suddenly appearing on the day of his commander’s planned death… They wouldn’t exactly welcome him with open arms. Gintoki was another individual. His face, though warped and demonised on the posters, was plastered from here even as far south as Sheffield where intelligence had it that he liked to visit. There was an abbey nearby down there, Roche Abbey, where reported sightings had pinged up multiple times. It often felt like the entire of Sherwood Forest belonged to the man, with his face on every village notice board and his songs chanted in every traveller’s inn. Despite his fame, he had somehow faded right past the guards.

Gintoki had said, “Make sure you stick to the plan.” He took Hijikata’s hands in his, making sure to catch his gaze. “You have to trust me. Right up to the millisecond.”

“Maybe if you told me what the plan was,” Hijikata had muttered, the red of his lips showing as he pouted.

“I’ve told you all you need to know,” Gintoki replied, not a hint of playfulness in his tone which was wholly unusual. “Stick to what I’ve told you and everything will be absolutely fine.” With that final comment, he let slip his trademark smirk – one of infuriating arrogance, then clapped his hand onto Hijikata’s cheek, smoothing the skin with his thumb until he met with the plump of Hijikata’s lips. He allowed the pad of his thumb to push his bottom lip so that his mouth opened slightly. Deep, red eyes flickered up to meet crystal blue. “Trust me.”

With that, he allowed himself to get swallowed into the gathering crowd of people at the drawbridge awaiting crossing. He lifted up his hood to hide the unmistakeable silver locks. Once that flash of silver was hidden, he vanished. Hijikata had not seen him since.

Now he was left cursing the man from the outside, wondering how the hell such a loud and conspicuous idiot had so easily slipped past his men’s defences. Saying this, it was suspicious that he had not yet seen a glimpse of anyone he knew standing guard. Even the men on the gates were unfamiliar faces. The castle staff numbered their hundreds, so it was not unusual for Hijikata not to recognise them all. He didn’t take much time to make friendly with handmaidens and the gate guards either. However, his men should certainly be patrolling. They had been here at least an hour and so far, there wasn’t even a hint of their black uniform to be seen. Certainly suspicious.

The time of the execution had to be drawing near. It felt as though even his bones were aching with anxiety. He hadn’t slept well at all, even though he had desperately tried. Curling up at the foot of a wide oak tree and smothered by his one main possession, a thick woollen blanket Gintoki had given him, he had squeezed his eyes so tightly that the veins in his eyelids morphed into swinging ropes. He wanted to be fresh for combat, and experience told him that a lack of sleep would only mar the sharpness of his eyes, the quickness of his blade. Yet even so, he could not catch a dream, instead living in a nightmare. Footsteps approached and he knew them to be friendly. The individual was not hiding their presence. Hijikata pulled down the blanket from his eyes and peered into the darkness, wondering who would be awake at this time except the men on watch. As the moonlight caught a glimmer of silver hair, he knew immediately.

“I told you to get some sleep,” the voice said gently, trying not to disturb the gentle snores of others sleeping nearby.

“How am I meant to do that with such a nightmarish presence creeping around the place?” Hijikata retorted. Gintoki made a quiet snort, settling onto the ground beside him. He remained seated, whilst Hijikata was laid between two protruding roots that cocooned him into a comforting cradle. On the other side of the root, Gintoki leaned against the sturdy oak and cast his eyes to the skies. He was difficult to make out in the poor lighting, but what wasn’t hard to distinguish was the glint of his demonic red eyes. Hijikata had never met anyone with such eyes before. In the light of the day, they were more of a maroon brown, looking unique but natural, their swirling hues like chestnuts. And just like chestnuts, they had a hint of crimson to their shell. When the light hit him just right, Gintoki’s eyes glowed.

He was hypnotising.

“What are you doing here? You should be resting as well.”

“I came to tell you a story.” Gintoki replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but when I settled down to sleep, the parallels of our tales kept me awake.”

“A story?”

“I didn’t have parents. I didn’t have a family. The earliest memories I have, I was wandering around alone searching for any sort of sustenance. I would steal knives from corpses and loot their pockets for coins. I had no reason to be alive, just a wandering corpse with a heartbeat.”

Hijikata immediately swallowed the sarcastic retorts he had been preparing on his tongue. Their conversation had taken a turn once more. Gintoki rarely spoke about himself, even though they often had delved into deep conversations in the short time they’d spent together. This was rare. He was opening a window into his life, into the workings of his mind … something which Hijikata had been dying to pry open for so long. Now, seemingly, Gintoki was opening it himself. It led Hijikata to wonder if he had earned the man’s trust – that was an item with an incredibly high value.

Hijikata decided not to speak. He didn’t even move, fearing that the sound might quieten Gintoki’s resolve to share this story with him. Gintoki continued, “I met a man that changed my life. He took me in when I was surely destined to starve. He taught me how to live, how to think for myself, how to fight. He showed me what a strong moral compass is and what it means to hold true to your beliefs. I grew up with this man and no one else. Then, ten years ago, he was executed in the walls of that castle. I was the one made to do it.

“The Sheriff, new to his tenure, wanted to stamp out my master. Everyone my master touched seemed to grow to resent corruption and unfairness. His students began to stand up against the Sheriff and the Lords. Some of them wanted to put the rightful King back on the throne. I never believed in any of those things. Nevertheless, my teacher was soon at the top of the Sheriff’s list of enemies, even though master had never once moved against any sort of authority. He just spoke, and people flooded to listen. In the end, he was captured, and our home was burned to the ground. That’s when I took up arms and started our crusade.

“But we were foolish to think we could win against the Sheriff with outright war, when the Sheriff had the backing of the King. We were wiped out and I was captured. The Sheriff brought me before my master and as punishment, instructed me to be the one to take his head. If I did not, then my friends would be killed instead. At that point, I knew what I wanted. But that came in contrast to what I knew my master wanted. And so, standing against how I felt, and how my friends felt … I took his life. Because that’s what he would have wanted me to do. He wouldn’t have wanted to live at the expense of his students. But in doing so, I made enemies out of those who were my comrades.”

Gintoki’s story faded to a close and he fell silent. Several minutes passed. Hijikata daren’t speak, hoping for him to continue talking, continue sharing his past with him… But it seemed that was all. He should be thankful to have heard this much.

“Oi, are you sleeping over there?” Gintoki said gently.

“Why have you told me this?” Hijikata began, raising himself onto his elbows to look at Gintoki. He wanted to see his face now, wanted to watch his expression as they spoke. Right now, his eyes were steady, his mouth showing nothing – no downturn of discontent, no flicker of a smile. He was keeping a very careful check on his emotions.

“When we enter those walls tomorrow, you may have to make a choice. You’re already making a choice by taking up arms against your previous lord, in order to save a man that I liken to my master. I assume he means as much to you?”

Hijikata nodded, resolutely. He was right. From within Gintoki’s words, he could easily pick out the parallels to his own past. “He does.”

“Just like me, you will enter those castle grounds tomorrow to save him, whilst putting the lives of others on the line. Just like me, you may have to make a choice. The reason I’m so invested in tomorrow’s plan to save your commander … is partly as my own redemption.” Finally, Gintoki turned his head to meet Hijikata’s eyes. There was a spark of guilt playing in his eyes. “I don’t want you to face the decision I had to make.”

There were no more words passed between them. It felt like everything had been said. Hijikata understood. He didn’t need to make a response or ask a question. There was no need.

He finally felt like he might be able to doze off, sleep calling his heavy eyelids shut. However, with that bright presence beside him, he found himself unable to completely switch off. He’d always be conscious of Gintoki’s every breath, every shuffle. He sighed, the sound disturbing the man next to him.

“Still can’t sleep?” Gintoki asked.

“Not quite.” Hijikata admitted but he didn’t mention that he couldn’t sleep because Gintoki was there. He treasured the time they spent together too much, and even though he was overly conscious of the man, Gintoki was also the calming lullaby rocking him into such a tranquil state – one he hadn’t managed to achieve since he’d heard of Kondo’s fate. Gintoki paused for a second, then crossed the tree root wedged between them to slide himself next to Hijikata. He laid facing him and Hijikata scooted back to give him some room. One hand found its way up to Hijikata’s face, soothing the frown lines with the tip of one finger. Hijikata closed his eyes to amplify the sensations that were already electrifying his nerves. A thought played on his mind, no matter how relaxed the strokes of Gintoki’s hands along his skin made him feel …

What would happen to them after tomorrow?

If everything went according to plan, would he have to say goodbye to this man?

… Did he want to?

Plenty of time had passed since Gintoki had entered the castle walls and rain had begun to drizzle. The air felt static and Hijikata expected a thunderstorm later in the day. He hoped the rain would hold off for now. A battlefield was miserable enough without rainfall to sodden the bodies. It would also make visibility disrupted. They needed a clear day. Although, Gintoki’s arrows were never known to miss.

Surely, the signal would come soon.

The scream of a young girl sounded, jolting Hijikata out of his thoughts. It came from just over the bridge amongst the crowd, and people began to look around in search of the disruption. Hijikata spotted Kagura on the ground, holding onto her arm with a look of anguish on her features.

“I don’t want to go with you!” She screamed. “Somebody help me! This old man is trying to kidnap me! Guards!”

Immediately the men on the gate headed in her direction and Hijikata sprinted into action. He had perhaps seconds to take advantage of this confusion to cross the bridge and sneak past the guards. As he approached in a hurry, the crowds morphed to surround Kagura, hands reaching out to help her. The man she was shouting at was bewildered, repeating over and over that he hadn’t even touched her; he didn’t know this girl. Hijikata lifted his hood as he slipped past the scene, immediately taking a left turn to scale the stone steps up to the guard’s parapet. On the way up, he knew there to be a door. It would be locked but with a swift kick he could probably dislodge it and make his way inside. The rooms beyond were rarely used, mostly there for storage of weapons. Along the corridor of the weapons cache was a small slit for a window that would allow him to spy out into the main square of the castle … where the platform would be.


	4. Such a fool is not fit to rule

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to stop predicting how many chapters this is going to be because clearly I am SO wrong.

He told himself to have patience. He told himself to wait for Gintoki to move, as he had been instructed. He spoke to himself in the emptiness of that large, echoing room with only cold steel to accompany him. He said to trust the Silver Archer, as had been his final words. Somehow, their conversation from the night before wouldn’t stop throbbing in his ears. He could hear the pounding of danger. He knew, above all else, that he could not stand still. Gintoki seemed to be telling him not to stray from the plan, not to recklessly dive in. His story had warned of what could happen if he did. The choice between the life of his master, and the legacy.

Gintoki had chosen the legacy. Hijikata wasn’t sure he would follow the same path if it meant losing Kondo.

He ran his hands along the plethora of weaponry available to him. He would need to minimise his presence, so carrying his usual sword would not do; it was far too conspicuous. In his belt, he carried the small knife that Gintoki had given him. The weapon was unusual to him, the handle felt too light and flimsy. It didn’t feel like enough. He wasn’t well practiced with something this small. He’d prefer to snatch one of the axes from the wall mount, or experiment with the weight of a spear. A long bow caught his attention. Smoothing the wood with his fingers, he followed the curve of the bow, taking a moment to separate himself from his negative thoughts. Something like this would easily slip under his cloak.

It was a shame he had rarely used one.

He would have to make do with the dagger. There were no such thing as inconspicuous medieval weapons. Returning the window, he noticed the crowds had fallen silent. The execution parade had begun.

Hijikata swallowed and braced himself against the stone wall. A shadow of black departed from the opened trapdoor to the cellar below the castle. It was a figure from which not a flash of human flesh could be distinguished: black hood, black face covering, black clothing from head to foot. In his hand he carried a heavy sword – the sword that would cut the rope to the trap door in one smooth movement, the blade fresh from the pumice. Behind it came the first of many guards, armour clanking with each step. They were in full ceremonial garb, silver glinting in the light of day to blind the audience; profoundly captivating but not at all practical to fight in close combat. That would be of advantage to their side. The men would be difficult to kill, but they’d be slow. It would work in their favour. After all, as Gintoki had said, they were not murderers.

No one had to die today.

Hijikata felt scornful of the ceremonial attire; this was nothing to commemorate. He suddenly felt sickened, even despite the fact that he had witnessed perhaps hundreds of executions in the past. Most of which he had turned a blind eye to. It didn’t matter if they were innocent. It didn’t matter if it was a young boy who had stolen to keep himself alive. None of that mattered. Humans could never care about something that did not affect them. The species had been like that since the first tick of time and Hijikata had never taken a second to question it until now. But, as soon as he saw the figure of his commander step proudly up the stone steps into the light, he was nauseous. And angry. The hundreds of people gathered here … Not a single one appeared to think this was wrong. There were women and children in the audience, gathering to watch the show as a form of entertainment. They wouldn’t raise a hand to stop this. Kondo had been protecting their livelihoods for years, serving selflessly. And now he needed something back from them … they wouldn’t even blink when his body turned cold.

Hijikata had to turn away for a second to gather himself. If he allowed himself to get too agitated, he’d sprint right into the middle of that madness and stop it with his own hands. Probably getting cut down in the interim. He hadn’t yet seen one of his men.

Perhaps there was something he could do after all.

Somewhat reluctantly, he left the window and removed his hood. He needed his ears sharp and aware, not dulled by the muffled echoes of his footsteps. The room was long and square with nowhere for his enemies to hide, so he sprinted quickly across the stone, trying his best to quell the sound. When he reached the door, he placed his ear against the wood and listened. He became sensitive to each vibration. Next, he got down to the floor until his cheek pressed against the cold stone, squinting through the gap under the doorway. He couldn’t see any shadows moving, and the light was entirely natural, no torches lit. There were two ways to go about this: one, walk with confidence and hope that no one stopped you; two, creep and try to avoid being seen. With how he had so easily slipped into the crowds, Gintoki appeared to be an advocate for the former. If you try to cover for something, it only draws the eye. However, Hijikata was completely unable to blend in with people. If someone asked him a question, he’d be found out immediately.

He used his whole hand to smother the latch, carefully shifting his fingers so that the metal separated. He then let the door swing gently open, standing behind the opposite wall. Inside the room, not a sound slipped through the open doorway. Feeling it safe to move, he quickly glanced inside, scanning left to right, checking each corner of the room … Safe. He was into the next room. This one was a kitchen storeroom, very tastefully situated above the stables so that the stench from outside made the air heavy with musk. Either side was stacked high with hessian sacks, full to bursting with various grains and products. Hijikata spared a thought for the amount of food that was always wasted within these walls. Himself and his men were always well-fed, and semi-regularly the Sheriff would stage large banquets to which he sometimes invited his Knights. On nights like those, more than half of the food would either be left untouched or vomited by a drunk guest into one of the corridors. Whilst they were gorging on food for pleasure, Gintoki and his comrades were starving themselves to feed their so-called prisoner. The ‘prisoner’ they were now helping.

They had shown him more hope and humanity in the short time he had spent with them than Hijikata had experienced in his entire life. Even when he was at his happiest with his older brother, Tamegoro, he was surrounded by bitter, twisted humans like his mother. She had beaten him more than once, eyes constantly filled with spite. Their extended family was just as hostile. And then, of course, there were the bandits that had come to rob their home and ended up maiming his older brother’s eyes.

Hijikata had only ever put faith in two men, his brother and Kondo. No one else was allowed to break through his barriers.

Except one silver-haired goon that was supposed to be his damn enemy.

He had certainly changed.

From the storeroom to the kitchens, the balconies above the Great Hall and the Chapel, Hijikata searched the rooms. In the pit of his stomach, dread began to fester as he knew it was wholly unusual that he had not yet seen one other person inside the walls. Where were the workers? Where were his men? Sure, some of the guards and stable boys were outside in the crowds: the Sheriff believed anyone that worked in the castle should be exposed to what happened to traitors, so they were often expected to be present for court-rulings and executions as a show of support for their Lord. However, there was absolutely no-one around. The castle echoed his own breath back into his ears. He glanced out of the nearest window. All the men to be executed had been lined up now. Kondo appeared to be the last one to go. He was now blindfolded.

Hijikata pressed on, continuing the search. Something wasn’t right.

He reached the room where his men slept and found it padlocked; it had never been locked. The mumble of conversation vibrated through the door. It felt familiar. His men must be inside. They had been sealed in here by the Sheriff, no doubt, as even he should be aware that these ruffians were loyal to one man only.

What if they were being guarded?

He hesitated. If he opened this door now, what would happen? He felt like he was betraying Gintoki, going against the plan. On the other hand, he could be helping. His men were clearly trapped behind this door to stop them from rebelling. They wouldn’t take much persuading to join in the assault.

A thud sounded from the courtyard, the unmistakeable _thunk_ of the trap door dropping open. Hijikata’s knees buckled, but he regained his composure, sprinting over to the nearest gap in the stone walls to peer out. There was an echoing gasp of dismay around the castle grounds as the audience took a collective breath. It took a few seconds for Hijikata’s eyes to register what he was seeing. The trap door was open. The executioner standing upright after his swing. The man who was meant to be swinging had instead shot straight through the hatch, the rope severed. Had someone cut the rope?

His sharp eyes very quickly caught onto the truth as he spotted the arrow embedded in the wooden post. Someone had shot through the rope, severing it in two so that the prisoner had kept on falling. Who knew whether he had broken any bones from the fall but he would survive. After all, he knew who had fired that arrow. There was only one man that could make such a shot.

The onlookers were silent, the executioner looking up in puzzlement at the severed rope, seeking answers. It didn’t take long for him to catch on, whether or not he had seen the arrow, as he began looking around. He tightened his grip on his sword. A new voice filled the air, soaring from above the crowds.

“Good morning, Nottingham,” it sang, frustratingly cheerful. Taunting. “Sorry but today’s show has been cancelled.” The whole crowd began to search the air frantically but Hijikata didn’t have time for this. He made his decision, darting back to the locked door and giving it a few sharp kicks with his boot. The wood was too thick, it barely splintered. The padlock itself was solid mental and the loop about as wide as his thumb. He should not have expected it to be that easy. If it were, his men would have long since escaped. He stood for a second, trying to ignore the sounds of fighting that had begun outside. He distinctly recognised the piercing whistle of arrows slicing through the air and finding their marks. On the other side of the door, the talking had stopped. They were listening now.

Hijikata darted back where he had come from, no longer worrying about being seen. He’d cut anyone down if they tried to stop him. His footsteps rattled loud across the stones but there was no one around to hear them. Once in the armoury, he grasped the largest axe he could find, relishing in the sensation of it heavy in his palm. It was nice to have a proper weapon in his possession again. One look at the blade and he could tell it had been recently sharpened. The edge glimmered teasingly. In less than a minute, he was back at the large wooden door – this time, he was prepared.

“Stand back from the door!” He yelled, subtly praying that the chaos outside was enough of a distraction. The last thing he needed was to be discovered now. A muffled shout echoed back at him and he recognised the voice. Yamazaki was repeating his command.

It took four wide swoops of the axe to break through the lock. The first one missed, the second one found the mark but left barely a dent. The third and fourth, Hijikata poured all his weight into the axe and struck the lock. It gave way. Once he kicked the door open, he was welcomed by the smiles of his men.

“Vice-commander!” They breathed in unison.

“No time to lose!” Hijikata interrupted. “Break out into the courtyard. Squad one, evacuate the civilians. Squad two, support the rebels in causing a scene. Squad three, rescue Kondo. Sougo, I’m leaving you in charge.” He met the boy’s eyes – the glow of his eyes burned red in a rage Hijikata had not seen for some time. The anger was, for once, not directed at him. Hijikata would put money on the Sheriff losing more than his prisoners tonight.

But he didn’t have time to be thinking this.

His feet barely scraped the floor as he ran as fast as his legs could carry him, the axe still firmly in his grip. He briefly regretted not taking a glance through the window before he left; he could have used the situational awareness. Never mind. He was close to the ground floor now. As he rounded the stairs, he finally came into contact with a pair of guards. They were standing by the door to the castle courtyard. They had been listening impatiently as events unfolded on the other side but were clearly loath to disobey their orders, even in the unfolding emergency. Hijikata slowed his pace and took a second to breathe deeply. The men turned around, jolting. Behind him, Hijikata felt the rage of his comrades burn the atmosphere. He folded his fingers tightly around the hilt of his weapon, letting go of his breath one smooth whistle of air.

“Put down your weapons or die here.” Hijikata announced. “I don’t have time to negotiate anything else.”

They clearly hesitated. Two against twelve? They didn’t have a chance. And even if it had been better numbers, Hijikata represented ten men alone. They hadn’t been living under the castle drawbridge their entire lives; they knew perfectly well what he was capable of. The deliberation played across their faces and they exchanged a look. Hijikata was right; if they fought here, they died.

And to die for the Sheriff of Nottingham was not to die a death of glory and valour.

One of them threw down his sword, raised his palms and stepped back. “Go ahead, the Sheriff’s Dogs.” The other followed suit, chewing his lip in humiliation.

“We’re not the Sheriff’s dogs.” Hijikata announced, heading straight for the door and feeling the force of rage bubbling behind him, ready to pop. “The Sheriff is no more.”

They burst into the courtyard and were immediately swallowed by chaos. It was hard to distinguish friend from foe, civilian from sympathiser. There were clearly mercenaries in the crowd who had been forewarned by the Sheriff that if they managed to disrupt any rebellion, they’d receive a hefty payoff. Sougo broke off to his left, way ahead of his men. He didn’t pause for them to catch up. He didn’t have time. Kondo was being escorted back towards the prison cells and already mercenaries were stalking towards him, knowing the biggest lump of gold would be exchanged for his head. The Sheriff was no longer in his usual place on the balcony overlooking the courtyard. He had probably left at the first shot of an arrow and was no doubt heading down to the courtyard to join the fray - he was a warrior himself and relished the opportunity to show off his might. The Silver Archer had never scared him.

 _Idiots don’t feel fear or pain_ , Hijikata thought, _even when they certainly should_.

Hijikata couldn’t help but grin as he imagined Gintoki finding the Sheriff alone. Gintoki was a man of just retribution. Hijikata hadn’t expected him to be that way and it was a pleasant shock when he found out. One that triggered a shiver down his spine in barely subdued delight. He couldn’t wait to savour the sight of Gintoki towering over the fallen Sheriff, with no chance of reprieve from the pain Gintoki would inflict on him. He’d done too much to too many people for too long. Gintoki would have that expression again, the look that should be captured in art for millennia to come, his eyes glowing like hot knives and silver hair shining ethereal as the centre piece of a frame that would fill a room from floor to ceiling. He should be entombed in the thick brush strokes of an oil painting for eternity.

The things Gintoki would do to him.

Hijikata tried to quell the excited rush he felt in his stomach. He’d seen it once before, and the memory was scratched into his retinas. On a visit to a village on the outskirts of the forest, a couple of local thugs had entrapped Shinpachi. Gintoki, unbeknownst elsewhere, was busy surrounded by his many admirers who loved to spend time around him. He chatted freely to the village elders, making crude jokes and earning the rebuke of their wooden staffs. As usual, his face was lax, and he had a smirk in his expression that never seemed to fade. People flocked to him. Soon, he was completely swamped. It was Hijikata, who had been watching quietly in incredulity, that noted the absence of Shinpachi. He departed the perplexing scene and eventually came across the sounds of a scuffle from one of the huts. Without making notice of his arrival, he beat open the door to find Shinpachi clutching his stomach in the dirt with five or so bulky men glowered down at him. He had a trail of blood running from his bruised nose and a swollen patch under his eye that shone bright blue. Hijikata reached for his knife, eyes darkening, but before he could move, a chill ran down his backbone. Instead of facing the thugs, he jolted away from the entrance and turned his back on them to face the darkness amassing behind him. He felt suddenly like a cornered rabbit under the watch of a predatory hawk, circling.

“The Silver Archer!” One of the thugs spat. Hijikata couldn’t believe their gall, but his brother had frequently told him that idiots did not feel pain or fear. They were oblivious to their weakness, like a small dog picking a fight with a horse without the ability to comprehend its ineptitude – its ribs could be cracked with one swift kick. Meanwhile, Hijikata felt the swell of panic freezing his limbs. His eyes finally met with the enemy behind him.

And he found it not to be an enemy at all.

Gintoki’s presence filled the doorway. His eyes glowed in the shadows. His presence was ghostly and silent. He still wore a smirk, this time befitting of the overwhelming atmosphere of killer intent threatening to suffocate them all.

It was the first time he had seen Gintoki switch like that, and the first time he had witness Gintoki deliberately inflicting pain on others without a hint of remorse shadowing his temple. The thought of seeing him like that again powered his limbs as he sprinted through the open doorway at the other side of the courtyard, orientating the familiar layout of the Great Hall. He was stopped by the sight of the Sheriff sitting contentedly at the head of the long dining table. The Sheriff looked up happily, leaning back in his seat and folding one leg over the other.

“I knew you’d come,” the Sheriff said, lightly. “Traitor.”

And Hijikata’s fury was quelled swiftly by the pierce of an arrow through his shoulder.


	5. And all legend will say the revolution started this day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're getting close nowww! I can feeeel it! Thanks for the support!

“I knew you’d come,” the Sheriff said, lightly. He spoke the word like it was a treat to pronounce, smiling as his lips formed the words. “Traitor.”

Hijikata began to take a step forward – he would corner this bastard until Gintoki arrived, disarm him and tie him up. Kondo would be freed, his comrades would take control of the chaos and dispose of the mercenaries, and then they would secure the castle. After which, the friends would slowly be cut away from the foes.

All this was shattered in an instant when Hijikata felt the sharp agony of an arrow piercing his right shoulder, the impact knocking him back a few paces. His eyes followed the wooden shaft to the point of impact where blood was now spilling over his shirt, along his bicep, pooling in his armpit. He dropped to both knees, suddenly unable to pull oxygen through his throat. He heard the echo of footsteps on the stone floor, loud in the silence of the Great Hall. The muffled sound of battle faded away. He didn’t want to look up. The steps halted in front of him. His face ran cold, drained of blood. The liquid oozing from his shoulder was hot against the Goosebumps now erupting all over him. Each splatter against the stone floor threw a pebbledash of red onto his clothes. He found himself sinking onto the stone, terrified that the icy surface would steal all his remaining heat. Still, he would not look up.

“I’ll bet you weren’t expecting that, were you?” The Sheriff was smug. His tone of voice so arrogant that the portraits on the wall were left intimidated by his confidence, knights shying away from the fight in his eyes. “You thought you’d team up with the enemy to take me down? You underestimated me, Toshiro Hijikata, and your little rebellion will be the last thing in your legacy.”

At last, Hijikata allowed his eyes to shift upwards at the figure before him. As his energy drained away, he began to doubt the part of his brain that had figured out what was going on. Even though his subconscious had pieced together the puzzle, his conscious pushed it aside. It couldn’t be true. It wouldn’t be h-

His blue eyes locked onto Gintoki’s and he was immediately trapped like prey in the jaws of a wolf. He could feel the vice of fangs on his jugular, stopping him from breathing. And Gintoki peered down with indifference, those red eyes glowing the colour of Hijikata’s blood which continued to pour onto the stone. He could not describe how he was feeling, not even if he was given the opportunity before he died right there. The last thing etched into his eyes would be the cold, unforgiving eyes of a true demon.

“Gin…toki?” He choked.

“I’ve known all along that you and your dogs would one day try to bite me.” The Sheriff began. His figure appeared over Gintoki’s shoulder but Hijikata could see only one person. “I’ve been building loyal retainers for quite some time so that one day I could dispose of your lot. You have it in your eyes, the look of revolt. From the first day you pledged your allegiance to me, I could see the disingenuity. So, when the Silver Archer offered me your head, I gladly took it. It is just so amusing,” he laughed, gruffly, “that you thought you could overthrow me. You thought if you ran in here with a few bandits, you could usurp me.” Gintoki turned his back on Hijikata to speak with the Sheriff.

“We need to move onto the next stage.” He said, voice a rumble of thunder, devoid of all the life and comedy he usually spoke with. “Get them all out on parade in front of the public - all of your disloyal retainers. Make an example out of them.”

“I sometimes feel like it’s only thieves and bandits I can trust! Your type are the only predictable people in this world. Don’t worry, Silver Archer, you’ll get your reward.” He began to stride towards the door, unsheathing his sword as he moved with a grating _shhiik_. “Tie him up; I trust that man least of all.”

“Yes sir.” Gintoki replied.

Hijikata was laid on his side now, listening to the throb of his heartbeat going crazy in his ears. His body was racked with sporadic shivers. As Gintoki leaned over him, he found the strength to grasp his knife which had been concealed in his boot.

“Woah there,” Gintoki said, gently, taking hold of Hijikata’s wrist as Hijikata drunkenly tried to lunge for him. At the subtlest resistance, Hijikata collapsed again onto the floor. “Put that away, Princess.” Gintoki’s voice was a honey sweet whisper, his eyes back to those soothing orbs of gentility. With careful fingers, he prised the knife from Hijikata’s grip. Hijikata hung on as best he could – his hands were about the only part of his body he could control now.

“Y…ou tri…cked me.” Hijikata panted, feeling himself fade away. He must have lost a lot of blood extremely quickly. He’d suffered severe wounds before, but none that had dragged him so rapidly away from reality. He could feel his mind sinking away from where he had a firm grasp of it. It was getting hard to concentrate. He could only hang onto one notion. “You’re … scum …” At this, the man hovering over him smiled. “And you’re … still … playing with me.”

“I’ll always play around with you, Toshiro. You’re so fun to tease. Now, do you remember what I said?”

“Bast-…ard.”

“Not that one honey, the thing about trust.” For a fraction of a second, Hijikata felt sober again. His brain fired up one last time. “There we go. Hold onto that thought. The arrow is coated in a sedative, but I didn’t wound you too deeply. I will see you when you wake up.”

“N-no!” Hijikata felt like his body was turning to stone. He was unable to even wriggle his fingertips now. With the last of his energy, he tried to lift his head from the floor. He desperately clung to reality.

“I knew you’d cause me trouble,” Gintoki couldn’t help but frown, the sudden urge to whack Hijikata hard twitching his fingers. “Stubborn ass. There was nearly enough sedative in there to knock a horse out. Go to sleep, will you?”

And Hijikata did.

He awoke feeling like death warmed up and with a throb in his shoulder that juddered him back to the present. He had been dreaming. Although he couldn’t remember the contents of the dream, he was still hurting. His chest was tight and as he gained consciousness, he realised he already had a frown creasing his temple. A cool breeze provided a welcome break in the humidity, tickling his chest where his shirt had ripped open. He groggily grasped that something was covering his wound, a thick cream slathered under his shirt. The breeze made it tingle. The next thing he understood was that he was outside, and he was not alone. In fact, he was about as ‘not alone’ as one could get – there was a whole crowd of people surrounding him.

He opened his eyes and good lord did he not like what he saw.

He found himself in the middle of the castle square on the platform where Kondo had been. There was something tight around his neck and he knew it immediately to be a rope. Looking down, he saw the trap door creaking beneath his feet. He tried to block out the herd of a hundred faces gaping at him, their whispers rattling his brain.

“ _Trust me_ ,” Gintoki had said. He allowed the word to take a hold in his mind kept it there. He did not let go of it. Though his wound wasn’t fatal, it was still significant and the way his arms were tied behind his back caused the rip in his skin to sear with pain. A groan slipped through his lips. There was a presence behind him, holding him upright. The presence shifted, making itself known. There was one hand around his waist, keeping him on his feet, another gripping the rope around his neck to relieve the pressure on his throat.

“G-…intoki,” Hijikata whispered, not to be inconspicuous as that was the only sound he could force out.

“Right here,” the presence said. “Just hold on a little longer.” That was enough to awaken him a little more and he began to tune into the consistent hum of a voice, speaking to the crowd.

“- disappointed by the events of today. These men before you have shown themselves to be traitors to the crown. By defying me, their lord elected by the King who himself was chosen by God, they have defied the heavens themselves. They have committed treason against the crown. They stand before you, traitors. And they will suffer the punishment of a traitor.” It was the Sheriff, striding purposefully up and down the wooden platform in front of Hijikata, making big gesticulations with his hands as he spoke. The eyes of the crowd were wary. There were many unsettled faces. Hijikata struggled against the rope to twist his head and couldn’t stop himself from gasping. Sougo was beside him, hands also tied behind his back and a rope around his neck. Further along, Yamazaki. And the line just kept going. Sougo’s eyes were hardened and did not flinch as he looked over the heads of the crowd.

“-ougo!” Hijikata choked.

“Easy,” Gintoki’s voice said. “Don’t make a fuss.” Sougo glanced over at him but did not react. He didn’t even appear angry.

“In a short time, I will cut the ropes to the trapdoors myself, sending these devils off to hell.”

The crowd murmured. Hijikata could sense the discontent. He saw faces he knew out there: people he had drunk with in the bars in the village, the old man who ran the market stall he often bought from, the lady who used to give him free eggs from her chickens. They were all there. Kondo had always made sure his men were kind to folk. They were the barrier between the Sheriff and the people. They’d obey his orders, but more often than not, they’d protect the villagers from his commands. People he ordered executed in their homes were given new identities and transported elsewhere. Cattle that the Sheriff ordered to be slaughtered as punishment were moved to new fields. Kondo negotiated more grains and foodstuffs for his men, the surplus delivered to those in need. They had been good to the people. They had protected them. And from the faces he recognised, Hijikata saw sadness in their eyes.

A shout erupted form the crowd, cutting off the Sheriff’s speech. “Let them live!” It called, simply. There was a stunned silence all round. Even the Sheriff stopped, searching the crowd for the voice.

“Let them live!” A new voice demanded. Someone began to beat a rhythm against the frame of a wooden cart. They punctuated each beat with the mantra – let them live. The crowd began to stir, and more and more people took up the call.

“Silence!” The Sheriff bellowed, but his voice was lost over the rising shouts of the crowd. He clicked his tongue in annoyance and signalled to his mercenaries, who stood in the corners of the castle grounds, to break up the call. It was too late to quell the voices. Some of the mercenaries began to grasp the troublemakers to escort them away, but others in the crowd would beat the mercenaries back. They were completely outnumbered. They began to look to the Sheriff. Hijikata could see that the Sheriff had absolutely no idea how to control a crowd. And crowds that couldn’t be contained would quickly turn into riots. All it would take was an escalation in violence from the Sheriff’s side, and all hell would break loose.

“Get them!” The Sheriff ordered, his face glowing red with rage. The mercenaries took this as their signal to get violent.

“That’s my cue,” Gintoki said. “Bear with me a minute.” The hand around Hijikata’s neck disappeared and the pressure on his neck had him scrambling to stand on his toes. He tried to figure out the noises behind him - a rustle, the sliding of metal, something around his hands. All of a sudden, the ropes on his wrist fell away. Hijikata’s hands immediately flew up to his neck to relieve the pressure and allow himself to breathe but before he got there, that rope fell away too. “Follow my lead,” Gintoki said, already in front of Hijikata. He was dressed in full black now, a hood hanging over his entire face. He looked like an executioner. As he stepped out towards the Sheriff, he whipped away his cloak to unveil his bow. He reached up to take a single arrow from his quiver, allowing the black cloak to fall to his feet, revealing the glint of his silver hair. The crowd almost immediately fell silent, one by one stopping their chant to watch on in amazement. The Sheriff, oblivious to the approaching man behind him, thought that he had finally gained control of his people and smiled, broadly.

“That’s better.” He said. “You will come to be grateful for this day, as God will be pleased that we have disposed of his treacherous children. He will gift you all with good fortune this year, I’m sure.”

“Your God is here,” Gintoki announced, pulling back the string on his bow until it met his cheek. “And he rarely misses a shot.” The Sheriff did not even have time to look shocked. The arrow met with his forehead and went right on through, all the while his expression conceited and self-assured. The crowd did not make a sound for several seconds, allowing the information to sink in. Then, Hijikata looked out and spotted Shinpachi. Beside him was Kagura. Both had determination in their expressions. They began a cheer that erupted on through the crowd and it began to dawn on Hijikata what Gintoki’s plan had been all along.

It was something he had once told Hijikata on an evening following a raid on a bandit’s lair. The troop of bandits had been using Gintoki’s name to encourage locals to pay them taxes in return for protection. When one day the village elder decided to cease the payment, they had pillaged the village for everything they could steal. Gintoki had took Hijikata alone on that mission.

“ _Cut off the head of a hydra and it will grow two more_ ,” Gintoki had said. “ _Every time you hack at it, another set of teeth will rise to bite you. You have to cut off all the heads and burn it at the neck. Prevent the hydra from returning for good.”_

At the time, Hijikata had thought it an overly eloquent description for what was essentially murdering the lot of them. But now, it made sense. If Gintoki had killed the Sheriff when he had the chance, two more hydra heads would have risen to fill the gap. Hijikata and his comrades would simply become pawns to the next Sheriff who fell in to take his place. Nothing would have changed. By encouraging Hijikata to stage a revolution against the Sheriff and allowing Kondo to take the fall for his treason, to the peasants, Kondo had become the good and the Sheriff, the evil. They were no longer his tools – they had been freed from his command. Gintoki had stirred the discontent of the peasants by allowing the Sheriff to appear to ‘win’. By planting his men in amongst the crowd, he had utilised the discontent of the people to form a rebellion. It suddenly became the people against the Sheriff, and Kondo and his men were on the good side. Taking the Sheriff’s life at this point signified the end of tyranny and took Gintoki to an almost God-like prominence in the eyes of the peasants.

The next stage was suddenly obvious to Hijikata.

Gintoki – the legend loved by the people - would demonstrate publicly his alliance with Hijikata and the other knights. This easily laid the groundwork for Kondo stepping up … and becoming the new Sheriff of Nottingham.

“The tyrant is dead!” Gintoki announced, his voice ringing loud over the cheers of the gathered crowd. “It is your turn now to elect a new leader, one who was by your side when the Sheriff was not. And,” Gintoki completed his walk, coming to a halt beside a stunned-looking Kondo, who was still tied up. Gintoki smiled, broadly. Kondo was baffled, allowing Gintoki to cut through his bonds and push him forwards towards the crowd. “Might I make a suggestion?” Gintoki finished, clapping a stunned Kondo on the shoulder. The cheers escalated and the air was filled with various items, thrown in celebration. The mercenaries were making a hasty escape through the castle gate.

Hijikata finally bounced into action and began to cut free his comrades. It was tricky with one arm hanging limply at his side but he managed it, and once Sougo was free, the boy assisted him.

“Your boyfriend is pretty good,” Sougo muttered to him and Hijikata was still too stunned to rebuke the comment. “Kondo is the perfect candidate. He already has a lot of support, both amongst the people and in the castle. He comes from a good family and is the head of a renown group of strong knights. The King will probably support this.”

“If he doesn’t, he’ll have a rebellion on his hands.” Hijikata agreed, still groggy from the drug in his system but the buzz of the events of the day was keeping his mind alert.

There followed an unofficial ceremony in which Kondo was praised as the new Sheriff of Nottingham in front of the crowd and he gave a bewildered but articulate speech to thank everyone. In his speech, he mentioned the Silver Archer, but the man had already disappeared like a wisp of smoke in the night.


	6. They challenge the lord and the forest applauds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I said this story was going to be about 2 or 3 chapters, boy was I wrong. Thanks for sticking with it and I truly hope you all enjoyed it! I have about 25 Gintama stories so if you enjoyed this one, please check out some of my other works!

Later, as Hijikata found himself in his room which had thick dust on every surface from his absence, the reality of the situation steadily sunk in. He wasn’t really sure what emotion to feel. It was too much to confront at once. He dropped onto his bed and allowed his head to droop. His shoulder ached and he noted that it probably would for some time. The scar would likely be a permanent reminder of this day and of the pain he had felt. Even though things had turned out for the good, he would continue to have nightmares for many years to come. He would see the ethereal shimmer of silver under the bright spill of paints in a darkened hall, a rainbow of colours breaking through the stained-glass windows, splitting sunlight into a thousand fractures. Their hues would hide in his shadows, shamed by the regal crimson of his eyes. Dust blows through the open doorway and dances like tiny critters around his feet. And still, there was death and despair looking down on him.

A knock sounded at the door and Hijikata knew it to be human. He was certain it was Kondo before the man even stepped foot around the corner.

A smile split the man’s face – ever humble and kind, despite his new title.

“It’s good to see you, Tosshi.” And Hijikata felt guilty that the name was no longer special to him. ‘Tosshi’ had for a long time been Kondo’s word to say. Now, it meant almost nothing. There was still a part of him that felt like he had betrayed Kondo by disappearing with the Silver Archer and planning all this without speaking to him. He attempted a smile.

“Hi.”

Kondo’s eyes softened and he beckoned Hijikata into his embrace. Hijikata stood and allowed Kondo’s arms to wrap around him. He took a moment to breathe him in, the familiar scent comforting and he realised it had been far too long since he had seen this man. Hijikata never wondered what Kondo would do when he returned – he always knew. Kondo would not even flinch to allow Hijikata back into his embrace. There would be no hesitation in welcoming him back to his side. He was such a man of kindness and Hijikata would have to work hard from here on in to protect his leader from the attacks of others who would no doubt use his humanity as naivety. There would be many people trying to manipulate Kondo and as strong as he was, he was also compassionate enough to risk his own life and position to help others, even if he knew their intentions to be poor.

“How’s the shoulder?” Kondo asked, being careful not to jostle him too hard as he ruffled Hijikata’s hair affectionately. It made him feel like a kid again and his stomach twisted.

“Not as deep as it looks.”

“Good. That Silver Archer really did a number on us, didn’t he?”

Hijikata’s eyes dropped to the ground, heavy with an emotion he couldn’t place. He could not forget the betrayal he had felt. Ever the perceptive commander, Kondo picked up on whatever Hijikata could not place a finger on.

“Tell me about your journey,” he said, taking a seat on Hijikata’s bed without asking and beckoning him down beside him. He did so obediently and began to speak of what had happened – Kondo deserved an explanation.

He told of how he was surrounded at the stream away from his men and knocked unconscious, then taken into the midst of the Merry Men. From within their heart, he could see how they worked and the intricate bonds between them, all leading back to the same man. He saw for the first time the real Silver Archer, the legend’s root, Gintoki. Constrained by his bonds, he viewed the group as an outside eye, stunned as he grasped just how tightly their comradeship was. He realised just how many people were drawn to Gintoki’s character, the way he spoke and gestured, how each and every person around a fireplace would be sucked into his pace. And then, Hijikata told of how slowly, day by day, he found himself dragged along with them. Suddenly, he was in their flow, too. And he began to drown in it.

He spoke freely of his admiration of Gintoki – of course, from a knight’s viewpoint. How strong he was in battle. His unarmed combat skills, the way his arrows flew like death’s minions seeking out their targets with incomparable accuracy. He told of Gintoki’s second character, the deliverer of retribution and justice. The darkness beneath that lackadaisical surface. He hesitated before he revealed to Kondo the strange relationship he had developed with Gintoki … and the effect it had on him. It tortured his dreams with guilt, but at the same time, provided a refuge he did not know he desired. Something so small had blossomed into a power over him Hijikata could not control.

And then he recounted as best he could the plan and how it had unfolded, taking hesitant breaths as he told of Gintoki’s apparent betrayal.

All the while, Kondo listened.

“It looks like you have a choice to make,” he finally said. Once more, Hijikata dropped his head. He knew Kondo was right, but it wasn’t a choice he _wanted_ to make. “Of course, I’ll support you, whichever way. But it would be remiss of me not to impart some wisdom onto you, eh, Tosshi?” He nudged his friend playfully but Hijikata was finding it difficult to smile.

“’m listening,” he said, dejectedly.

“You need to decide if you’re going to stay here or join them. I’m sure Gintoki is waiting around somewhere for you to make that decision.” Hijikata thought so, too. He nodded, glumly. “However, whichever you chose, you should hear this. Tosshi, your attitude towards Gintoki … it’s obsessive.”

Hijikata’s spine straightened like a metal rod. His mental guard immediately went up and he shut off the connection between his emotions and his expression. Kondo continued.

“You don’t see him as a friend. The way you’ve spoken of him to me, you think of him like a god. That’s dangerous, Tosshi. He has far too much control over you. I don’t know whether he has manipulated you on purpose, or if all this is in his personality … but if you do choose to leave with him, it should be with this in mind. He’s a powerful person, Tosshi, not just as a fighter. I’ve seen it myself. He reminds me of the tale of the pied piper – he walks through villages and towns and people just flock to him. You’re not made to be a follower, Tosshi. You won’t be happy like that. If you leave with him, can you leave as his equal?”

All these words were ringing true and it would have knocked Hijikata off his feet if he had been stood on them. Instead, he rubbed at his eyes, feeling suddenly exhausted. He knew Kondo was right. Gintoki was like a divine being to him, a legend in the making. When he was near Gintoki, he felt his own wills and wishes ebb away. All he wanted to do was be beside him. He trusted him so irrefutably that he had thrown away his old life to make way for this new one. Now he was back with Kondo, it was like he had returned to his normal self and was looking back on a dream.

“But as I say, it will always be your choice to make.”

“You should leave,” a new voice chimed into the conversation as Sougo entered. He stood casually, hands deep in pockets and chewing lazily on a chunk of dried meat he’d pilfered from somewhere. “Don’t worry, I’ll look after things on this end.”

“Over my dead body,” Hijikata laughed, softly. It was nice to relive a piece of normality.

“If that’s how you want it …” Sougo shrugged. “Kondo, a messenger has come from some noble. He wants to speak with you.”

“Okay.” Kondo slapped his hands on his thighs and stood, patting Hijikata on the back just before he left his side. “If you decide to go, don’t leave without saying goodbye.”

“… I won’t.” Hijikata said. He felt confident that he had made his decision. He knew where he wanted to be. He only worried that a certain pair of red eyes might persuade him otherwise, even if the words from Gintoki’s mouth did not try to.

He got up and moved to the window which overlooked the castle square where the whole drama had unfolded barely an hour ago. The square was mostly empty now. The mercenaries had long since disappeared, the villagers returned to normal life and his men patrolled the area as usual. One of them glanced up and caught his gaze, waving brightly. There was no sign on the Silver Archer.

So, where would he be?

He had a feeling he knew.

He scaled the stone steps of the castle keep, ever climbing upwards towards the highest point in the land. Hijikata knew the rooftop well. He frequented it often as the spiritual peace he felt when he could see beyond the castle walls brought the world into perspective. He often stared into the distance at the rolling hills and forests, imagining his brother still there hunting wild deer, navigating the land like he owned each and every tree. Each season, the scope of colours would shift completely - from bright green in the summer, to pinkish reds in the autumn, then on to a white of snow in winter, returning finally to the bare branches of spring to begin the cycle once more. You could see for miles atop this keep. Under the foot of the castle, normal life brought a brisk sense of rationality to Hijikata’s life – perspective. Looking further to the outward villages in the beginnings of the forest, he was taken back in time to his childhood, the host of comforting and disturbing memories flooding back to him. Beyond that, a sea of forest that cast Hijikata away from reality – like looking upon a fantasy. The world never seemed to end and there was so much that Hijikata had not yet explored, ground he had not touched and communities he knew nothing about.

Gintoki was exactly where he expected him to be, perched on the keep wall with his feet hanging over the edge. He wasn’t looking down at the people below, or out at the forest, or across to the horizon. He looked skyward.

“I should push you off,” Hijikata commented and could see the corner of Gintoki’s lips flick up into a smirk.

“If you did that, I’d fall.”

“You know, that would be the point.”

“Surely not,” Gintoki teased, swinging his legs delightedly. He looked for all the world like a small child enjoying the sun’s kiss on his skin. “So, bit of an adventure we had today.”

“You could have just told me the plan.”

“Now where would be the fun in that?” Gintoki’s tone was sing-song and although he had joked about pushing Gintoki off, Hijikata was feeling more and more inclined to do it. “Your expression was pretty delicious back then.” Hijikata was stood directly behind Gintoki now and the man leaned over backwards to look up at him. Those eyes glinted with mischief. Hijikata leaned over to kiss him. He bit Gintoki’s lip lightly and Gintoki returned the gesture with greater fervour. With every second that passed with their lips connected, Hijikata thought about how cruel this man had been to him. He moved away slowly, keeping steady eye contact with the man. He slowed his breathing. Gintoki was making no efforts to disguise just how rapidly his chest was heaving. His lips were slightly red now but remained parted, expectantly. Even now, he was making it so painful for Hijikata to choose.

“You knew all along that it would come to this,” Hijikata said, his voice a husky breath.

“And you didn’t?”

“You’ve done your best to make me stay.”

“Correction,” Gintoki smiled, “I’ve done my best to make you leave.”

“You know that I can’t.”

Gintoki’s tone remained upbeat. “Well, I tried my best.” He shrugged both shoulders, innocently. “The decision was always yours, princess.”

“Where are you going now?”

Again, Gintoki wriggled his shoulders. “Wherever life takes me.”

“Is it far?”

“Could be.”

“Will you be taking the kids along?”

“And you, if I can help it.”

Hijikata straightened and turned his back on Gintoki. He had to say this succinctly, not just for Gintoki but for himself. “I’m staying here beside Kondo.” Gintoki did not reply and Hijikata could not bring himself to turn round. “It’s where I want to be.”

Again, no response. Hijikata squeezed his eyes shut, listening hard as though if he tried hard enough, he’d be able to hear the thoughts inside Gintoki’s head. No such luck. He couldn’t understand this man even when he was looking directly into his eyes. Just like Kondo had said, Hijikata did not stand before Gintoki as an equal. If he could not even decipher what the man was thinking, how could he expect to see past the stars in his eyes to comprehend the soul beyond them. He was far off being an equal. Maybe, in time …

Finally, the tension became too much and Hijikata turned around. He was shocked to find Gintoki directly behind him and nearly took a step back. Gintoki’s expression was sombre. He reached out and took Hijikata’s face in his strong hands, leaning in to kiss his forehead.

“Goodbyes,” he said, moving down to his nose and leaving another kiss on the tip, “are never forever.” He moved down again but he did not have to move far – Hijikata was already tilting his head up to meet his lips. “When the sun and the moon lock eyes, I’ll see you again, my Maid Marian.”

Just as Hijikata opened his eyes, Gintoki had vanished. He felt it best not to go after him. If he did, he would probably follow the man all the way back into the forest. Like the pied piper. Instead, he contented himself by memorising the sound of his footsteps edging away, knowing that one day he would hear them coming back to him.

“You know where to find me,” Hijikata spoke to the ever-rescinding footsteps. There was no verbal response, but he certainly heard a sniff of laughter.

_Tell me a story, one of heartbreak and glory,_

_Tell me the tale of Robin Hood._

_The Sheriff and his men, in the lion’s den,_

_A man of evil; a man of good._

_“How does not matter, bring me his head on a platter!”_

_And his men set out into the wood._

_Robin Hood saw her eyes, brighter than the skies,_

_And stole her away from the brook._

_Marian saw his eyes, more beautiful than sunrise,_

_And changed her impression of the crook._

_“You are not what I thought, your allegiance cannot be bought,_

_All along, I’ve misunderstood.”_

_They know such a fool is not fit to rule_

_And plot a revolt in the wood._

_And all legend will say, the revolution started this day,_

_The mutiny of Robin Hood._

_They challenge the lord and the forest applauds,_

_The Sheriff is defeated for good._


End file.
